Chapter Text
The Wanderer walked aimlessly in the jungle, making plans to return to Sumeru City after an entire day clearing some requests provided by Nahida. While he must admit that he loathed being a subordinate to her, he was aware that in his current state, she is nearly the only person who could provide him the help he seeks… Of course, aside from the blonde traveler awaiting him in Sumeru, perhaps. His lips curved upwards as the wayward wind sped across his shoulders, every breeze a centimeter closer to his newfound home. Perhaps home was not the proper term to label the sensation he feels with the traveler— he just felt comfortable in his company, that’s all. Or rather, comfortable inside of him.
He kicked a pebble blocking his path to the side of the road, causing the toucan perched upon a rock to fly away in shock. The previous week, he and the traveler engaged in a heated argument of what they really were. Their relationship was quite complex— there was skinship, and there was intercourse that rendered both of their minds irrational, mired with endless lust and venomous desire for each other. He, in particular, felt rather strange inside Aether— despite his mechanical body, he was not immune to the sheer pleasure the traveler’s hole provided him. The sight of his disheveled hair, cheeks redder than the flames of Murata herself, and parted lips to expose his tongue while the Wanderer grinded himself into his anal cavity was something he took utmost pleasure in. Hearing and making him beg for more, pulling on his hair to remind him of how his member brings him so much pleasure, and the satisfying sensation of releasing his semen into his companion, taking delight in watching it ooze and drip down onto his thighs, in turn staining the immaculate sheets provided by Nahida’s attendants in their little cabin in Sumeru City. Truly indeed, Lesser Lord Kusanali’s mercy knows no bounds— even when an act of desecration was happening in her city, she never warned him… or perhaps she doesn’t really know. After all, it would be quite inappropriate for her to know that.
Know what exactly? The Wanderer tipped his hand to welcome a few rays of the afternoon sun into his face.
He doesn’t know either.
The complexity of human emotions was something he admittedly struggled with— and overtime, he lost interest in those sensations. He, however, took pleasure in seeing the scornful looks upon the faces of both his woes and comrades, be it from mere circumstance or by his own hand. Truly, his time as the Balladeer is fear-invoking. While he was familiar, and indulged himself, in fury, anger, fear, and pain, he must concede to the fact that the mortal concept of “love” is something he finds difficulty contemplating on. Nahida told him that such a thing is something that even she, the God of Wisdom herself, cannot aptly fathom and decipher it, even with her capacity as an archon. She told him a few cases of love she had seen over the course of history (Morax and Guizhong, Osial and Beischt, the lovers in Mondstadt… although it must be admitted that this knowledge was something she learned from Irminsul, rather than something which stems from personal experience), yet the Wanderer could only look at her with a curious face, before looking elsewhere in an attempt to lighten the mood. He wasn’t sure if the extent of his affections (let’s leave it at that; the lack of definition makes it incrementally harder to pinpoint what exactly it is) for the traveler was enough to constitute love.
‘Maybe it’s the things you like about him,’ He recalled Nahida’s words as he walked past the tranquil groves of Vimara Village. The laughter of children filled the air as he came across a group playing out in the open field, kicking the tender foliage scattered across the ground up in the air. Amidst the giggles and the chuckles, one child’s eyes landed on him: naturally, they flocked around him, inspecting this new and interesting fellow who graced their playtime with his presence. “Woah! This big brother is sooo cool!” A kid pointed out. “Your hat is very pretty, mister!” Another beamed, smiling at him, before they looked in awe at the glowing stone hanging upon the left side of his chest. “He’s also a vision holder! You’re the third cooolest person I’ve met!!” They cheered. The Wanderer raised a brow not out of a fit of anger for being ranked third in a superlative scale, but out of mere curiosity.
“Say, who are the two coolest people?” He asked, crouching down to their level. While his experiences with children were… disastrous, he pledged to Nahida to not lift a single finger on Sumeru’s children, lest he invoke the wrath of the guardian of Irminsul herself. The children scratched their chin in contemplation before one of them perked up.
“Oh! It’s Rana! She always fights the bad guys with her axe! And she also has a Dendro Vision! She’s reaaaaallly cool!” They jumped in joy as the Wandered peered his face closer into the conversation. “When the day ends she’ll call us and tell us all sorts of stories and play with us! She’s like our big sister!”
“And who should be the second one?”
“One of her friends!” A child mentioned. “It’s Mr. Blonde Traveler! He saved me when I was taken away by some bad guys. He’s good at sword fighting and could summon the wind, the earth, lightning, and even grass blades! He doesn’t even have a Vision on him, but he could use magic!” They jumped in reminiscence of the tales he told them during his visit. “And he knows a lot of stories, too! And… he’s… really handsome and beautiful at the same time, I want to be like him when I grow up!”
“Boo! I’ll be Mr. Blonde Traveler! He promised me he’ll teach me sword fighting so I could spar with Rana!”
“No, I will!”
“Alright, that is enough.” The Wanderer sighed. Although he must admit to the fact that the traveler is, indeed, a beautiful man, he never expected his charm to capture the affections of even children. Still, if he knew anything from his methods of collection during his days as a Harbinger, it’s that children are more often than not reliable sources of information. “So, tell me… what does Mr. Blonde Traveler like in people? Did he ever mention… anything about love?” Came out his unsolicited question, before realizing what just came out of his mouth. He cursed the butterflies fluttering in his stomach for this humiliation, especially in front of children. The kids, once more, scratched their chins as they tried to come up with an answer.
“Hmm… Mr. Blonde Traveler told us he wants to see his sister the first time,” He squinted. Of course, the old and classic tale of his relentless search for his sister. There was nothing new to be known. “But yesterday when he visited us, he was… asking us for some ideas for a gift. He said he wants to give it to someone who is special to him…” They informed him, and immediately, his mechanical ears registered that information with utmost solemnity. “I think Mr. Blonde traveler is in love with someone! You see, our nana weaves bracelets for a living. Each thread has a meaning… and Mr. Blonde Traveler chose the red one! It means love!”
“Hmm…” The Wanderer chided himself for the, once more, strange feeling arises from deep within his stomach. “What… is love?”
“It’s the feeling of caring for someone deeply.” The kids responded in a rather quick manner. “It’s like your life would be incomplete when they’re not there… at least that was what Rana told us! She told us she loves us all very much and that her life would be complete without us!” They smiled at him, watching their purple-haired fellow’s eyes shift their attention to the trees standing guard along the verdant paths to Sumeru City. The Wanderer pursed his lips and nodded, thanking the children for responding to his inquiry. Quickly making up an excuse, he dug within his pockets to search for the candies Nahida gave him (to “keep him happy” along the way) and split it equally to the children. They thanked him and happily pranced away, back to the viridescent grass where they continued the game of chase he disturbed with his presence.
Thus, his legs continued to walk back to Sumeru City. Should he try to follow the principles he held as a Harbinger, he would most certainly end up thinking that his life has long been complete— that love was just a mere addition, or distraction, to his otherwise completely functionable self. Yet the words of the children still opened some space for ponderance as he continued to walk down his homeward path. If, per se, the traveler was to be removed from his life… sure, he would still function as the persona he is. He would not lose any mechanical ability, nor would he suffer any mental alterations. Yet… due to how the most recent circumstances have placed the traveler in a crucial position within his life, he could hardly depict life without him, or… at least, without their periodic meetings. He was aware that he was a rather busy man, and that occasionally, he would need to depart in order to facilitate his affairs elsewhere. They are, indeed, very akin to each other, in a constant need to shift locations to fulfill their duties… duties that are independent of each other’s company. Provided, however, that the traveler is the sole person who holds any form of memory of him (in all fairness, not even Buer should remember, if not because of him), the Wanderer holds him in high regard. Yet the magnitude of his affections are exponentially greater than that of what he held with Haypasia. While both of them knew of his past and connected into his consciousness, it was ultimately the traveler who chose to stay…
Not that it was the woman’s fault: she had no dominion over Irminsul, and in turn, her memory of his mind, after all.
Still, he finds himself latched onto the blonde. Despite quite so, “Wandering” all around Sumeru, whenever he catches word of the traveler arriving in the city, he could not help but feel his legs speed the wayward winds to the bustling city in order to meet him. Of course, their meetings would start off with either a row of insults or a surprise flurry of windblades, it would always conclude with the exact same thing: scattered moans, discarded clothing, and strings of semen stretching for a few centimeters across their bedsheet. While during the latter parts of their intercourse the traveler would say this wretched statement, he would mostly refute it with “Hold your tongue”, or a simple “Shut up. ”
What statement did the traveler exactly say to warrant such an aggressive response?
“I love you, Kunikuzushi.”
While he loathed that name and he loathed the entire story which led him to take that name in the first place, it was ultimately the traveler— Aether, to signify their bond, going so far as to know his real name— who gave it a new meaning. To destroy the country of lies that he built, to destroy the country of illusions he erected within the confines of his “heart”. To be able to shatter the things he thought his mother did, to be able to unshackle himself from the endless search for the heart he so longed for. It was his desire to live anew, perhaps that granted him the heart he wears over his chest. To be one with the wind, free-going, unshackled, eternally shifting. Yet every time after they finished, he would always kiss the blonde’s forehead a good night, always ending with a remark that goes “You better still be here tomorrow.” Of course, the blonde has been consistent with keeping that promise, and while he would slap the Wanderer’s face to wake him up (assuming that he did before him), he would always be met with some hot food on the table.
Thankfully, his annoying mascot always disappears into their adeptal teapot during the night. While it did pique his interest and his curiosity, it always relieved him that the traveler would choose to sleep beside him, rather than go into his teapot.
Then came the dreaded week before. Apparently, Aether confronted him about the nature of their relationship. The blonde, while frank and straightforward, was also patient, saying that he didn’t need an answer immediately. Yet there was Kunikuzushi, randomly spitting out words and laughing at his confession. “You love me? Ha, that’s what all humans say.” He said, a grim chuckle accompanying his proclamation. “What exactly makes you different from them? You’re just going to dump me off one day, anyway. There’s no point in doing… this. But might as well make the most out of it while we’re still here.” He remembered running a finger up the traveler’s toned abdomen, before he grabbed his hand and swatted it away.
“Would it kill you to believe me, even just for once?”
For someone he attempted to kill 168 times, The Wandered found him rather tenacious. He could say the same about his attitude— but he was not sure if he was impressed or he was… annoyed.
“What exactly makes you think I won’t turn my back on you and slaughter you? My agreement to travel with you temporarily does not exempt you from the potential of becoming my enemy. Should you get in my way, for any reason, I won’t hesitate to send my sharpest blade to cut that pretty little throat of yours open.”
At this point, Aether’s eyes dimmed as he walked away, mumbling words inaudible to his ears, or perhaps, words that he didn’t bother listening to. Confident that the blonde would just dismiss this encounter and proceed with the day-to-day basis of life, The Wanderer likewise returned to the continuum of wandering all around Sumeru, experiencing countless perils and troubles that quickly dissolved with a snap (literally) of his fingers. Perhaps the highlights of his journey were the Aranaras providing him food and shelter during the rain (while he refused to openly admit it to Nahida, he has grown extremely fond of the creatures), and breathtaking views of the verdant jungle contrasting the golden-troved sands of the arid desert. He found the beauty of the desert sands comparable to the blonde’s golden hair… yet of course, the next time Nahida called for his aid, he reluctantly returned to the city to receive her orders (a deal was made: Nahida was to teach him how to adjust into a new leaf, while he would take care of affairs that required combat), he was immediately met with a sermon.
Apparently, the archon overheard his conversation with the traveler. Of course, the Wanderer chided her for eavesdropping on such a trivial thing, but she reminded him that humans feel emotions. She understands that he was still struggling to process everything and everything all at once, provided that this was a cognitive process highlighted during youth, but she told him to at least value his company. She crossed her arms in a pout, saying that taking him for granted may have its own consequences. Aside from instructing him to clear a bunch of eremites trying to terrorize the jungle deep within the Apam Woods, he was also instructed to apologize. Of course, he needed to wait until the traveler returns from his expedition to who knows where before he could enact his “apology”… perhaps only to satisfy Nahida and spare him precious time wasted on useless sermons and lecture-like talks.
Alas, the city’s structure came into sight. He made his way through the crowd, up the stone paths shouldered by humongous branches, and into the Grand Bazaar. Zubayr Theater’s performances were heavily anticipated, especially due to their dancer, Nilou’s, immense popularity. If any, the possibilities of seeing the blonde here would be high. He dreaded having to interact, or even stand in proximity of the crowd, but he likewise dreaded Nahida’s lectures and having the traveler bear sufh negative emotions for him as time went by. “Making the first move does not make you wrong. It only means that you’re the one making the effort to mend the relationship!” He remembered Nahida’s words, and while he valued his pride above all else, he surrendered to the idea of giving Aether one exception. Finally, he saw a flash of golden yellow hair stick out from the side stage. There he was, in all his captivating beauty and charm, talking and smiling to a woman with auburn hair dressed in a rather exquisite attire, whom he assumed was Nilou. The Wanderer was left to stand there for a few seconds, admiring his profile from afar, before realizing the next second that he was clogging the path. Embarrassed in his actions, he pulled his hat down to mask his face and headed straight for the pair.
“Oh! It’s… my first time seeing you here. May I help you?” Nilou asked, turning from her conversation with Aether. He only sent her a stare before taking the blonde’s hand and pulling him along. “I need to borrow him for a while. Nahida’s orders.” He declared, basically dragging the traveler down the stage and into a secluded area within the walls of the bazaar. Despite his protests, he was able to secure him, pinning him to a wall for good measure. He peered his face closer onto his, his breath barely touching the tip of his nose.
“Aether.” He started. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry…? F-For what?”
“For what happened last time.”
“What last time?” The blonde’s brows furrowed, looking curiously at the Wanderer’s eyes. He tilted his head in inquiry as he examined his face, his eyes, his nose, his lips— everything, in an attempt to draw out a plausible conclusion. “I’m sorry… have we met?”
“What do you mean?”
“I meet a lot of people in my travels. Given that you know my name, I would naturally come to the conclusion that we have met.” The Wanderer’s grip on his wrists loosened as the blonde took the opportunity to liberate his limbs and restore their ability to move freely. “My memory isn’t perfect, but I may have an idea of who you are if you say your name. What’s your name again?” He smiled lightly. At this point, the Wanderer was trembling. For one, the Aether he knew would never smile like that at him; rather, he would scowl, curse, or stick his tongue out in insult. Second, what did he mean by “What’s your name?” It was he who chose to retain his name as Kunikuzushi! Nothing in this conversation was making any sense! “Are you… alright, mister? Your face seems pretty pale—“ A gust of wind knocked the blonde back onto the wall, and the next second, his abductor was nowhere in sight.
The Wanderer wasted no time and ran up to the Sanctuary of Surasthana. The guards inquired about his business, but he insisted that they let him in. When they refused, he prepared to engage in battle, only to be stopped by Nahida herself, who told the guards that he was her visitor. The Corps apologized and proceeded to let him into the sanctuary. Its beauty was still sheltered, despite its age. He could only wonder how Nahida must have felt trapped in this prison for nearly 500 years. The archon conjured a swing and sat on it as he took a seat on the floor, legs crossed, and eyes still indisbelief.
“Soo… I heard the traveler was in town. Did you do as I say?” She smiled.
“Those stupid eremites were rid of.” He gnashed his teeth. “I need to go into Irminsul.”
“W-What?” Nahida’s smile quickly turned into a frown. “I cannot allow you to do that without a grave and justifiable reason. Over-manipulating Irminsul will only cause destruction. There are things that cannot so easily be erased by it, lest we risk another instance of forbidden knowledge corrupting our world.” Her drip on the strings of her swing tightened as a silent growl came from the Wanderer’s mouth. “My decision is final.”
“Aether… Aether forgot about me.” He breathed, clutching his chest. “He doesn’t remember me… he doesn’t know my name… the name he chose to retain for me.” He growled. “I need to go into Irminsul to retrace everything! Something may have happened to him!”
“Going into Irminsul will not change a thing.” Nahida crossed her arms. “The traveler is a descender. The Irminsul does not keep any records regarding him. He is not from this world, remember?” She placed a finger on her chin in contemplation. “Although him forgetting about you is strange indeed… perhaps… I have an idea!” She stood up from the swing and with a wave of her hand, conjured forth a rather gigantic book, as thick as his index finger. She placed it on the ground and opened it. “This was an ancient tome I found in the House of Daena a few days ago. I was intrigued by it, but after reading through the first few chapters, I quickly came to the conclusion that the black arts enlisted within this book posed an immense threat to the natural order of life. Hence, I took it into my own hands and safely sequestered the book out of public reach.” She turned to a page. “Here… I remember reading through this.”
Limits In Memorial Occlusion: Transcendence
“This particular black art is classified under the forbidden arts due to how it could permanently alter a person’s mind regarding someone.” She furrowed her brows as she read through the first few paragraphs of her newly-found book. “The Limits In Memorial Occlusion: Transcendence Ritual, also known as The LIMOT Ritual is a forbidden art that allows the target, be it the user or another target, to forfeit their memory of a certain person. It removes them from their mind completely, as if their meeting was never recorded. This ritual, in fact, is so powerful that it rivals that of Irminsul’s power to rewrite existence. No wonder they banned these.” Nahida mused.
“But this ritual may not succeed so easily. In order for this ritual to come into fruition, the target must first harbor strong and immense affections for the person they wish to forget… for it is only the pain of love which justifies the removal of one’s memory to salvage their sanity.” She continued. “The instructions for this ritual are not written in this book, as it has been lost in time. Legends say that a copy of this forbidden taboo may be seen etched on the walls of various ruins predating the existence of the Seven themselves. However, this place may only be reached when the person’s heart holds great sorrow; only then shall this diabolic court manifest itself.” The Wanderer furrowed his brows further. “Once the ritual is complete, the target shall not remember that person again… and as a price for executing this forbidden art, they shall forfeit the ability to hold any more affections for that person, should they meet again. Likewise, they shall have no memory of performing the ritual, and… they can never perform it again, lest they risk their soul being taken by the Abyss itself.” She concluded.
“Tch. Who would believe such a lousy fairy tale.”
“I personally wouldn’t,” Nahida said, closing the book. “But I can’t possibly think of any other things. The traveler seemed to be alright and well, and remembers everyone… except you. So head traumas or injuries are out of the question. Even I admit that I cannot aptly formulate a hypothesis to satisfy the implications of this case… What could have caused him to forget you…?” She bit her lips. “I’ll continue investigating this… for the meantime, why don’t you—“
“Nahida!” From the door went in the man himself, waving cheerfully as he walked towards the pair. “And… you! That was quite rude just now, you know?! Interrupting my conversation with Nilou and dragging me all the way back before just disappearing without a trace? Hmph.” He pouted, before smiling towards the archon. “Anyway, I… assume I’m not interrupting you at all, hm?”
“No, no. Please feel free to speak with me.” She smiled. “Don’t mind him. He’ll just listen.” The Wanderer rolled his eyes at her remark.
“Alright.” The traveler took out his camera and showed them a photo of a certain ruin. “I found this ancient tomb in the desert while adventuring… I remembered descending to it, but I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was back at the entrance…” The ruins were built with massive walls of sand and pillars of ivory. On its walls were carved ancient runes and symbols which may require the mind of a bright Haravatat scholar to decipher. “I asked the locals about it, and they don’t remember seeing that ruin. When I returned to the location, it was gone… Do you know anything about this, Nahida? Or you, too, mister.” He inquired, holding the photo up high. The Wanderer trembled. No way these types of things are true, aren’t they? There should be absolutely no way that this is true. This… is just a fairy tale, no? His hands trembled as he stood up and started to walk towards the entrance. All words degenerated into noise all around him, nearly indecipherable to even his mechanical ears. His sight began to blur as he noticed something wet form from one of his eyes.
Tears?
Did Aether really attempt that stupid ritual… because of him? He laughed. ‘Why do I feel so affected? Is it because… only Nahida remembers me now?’ He clutched the Anemo Vision hanging aloft his chest. 'Why do I care? I don't need him to remember me. Good riddance, in fact.' A tear fell off his cheek. 'Why the fuck am I crying?' If he were his former self, he would have gone ablaze; he would have have launched sharp blades made of seething winds towards every cardinal and secondary direction. He would neither care for any property damaged nor for anyone injure; the extreme satisfaction of tearing this cruel world apart is more than enough to rob him of his sanity. But unlike the previous instances, did Aether truly betray him? Were there any commitments between them? Were there any promises they vowed to honor and keep?
Technically, Aether did. But love is akin to a contract; by principle of the Geo Archon, it must be equally benefitting for both sides. What they had between them was not.
If ever there was something in between them in the first place.
“Um… Mister? D-Did I say something wrong?” The blonde waved as the doors to the sanctuary were closed shut with so much pressure it caused the structure itself to rattle down to the last brick of its foundation. The traveler sighed and turned to Nahida.
“Let him be.” Nahida winked. “Let’s just say…. He’s sulking.”